


It's Easy With and Without Words

by Chromaticism



Series: A Partnership Forged in Mutual Vitriol [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Astronomy Professor Blaise Zabini, Auror Harry Potter, Bathtubs, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Food, Insomnia, Love, Love Languages, M/M, Massage, Post-Hogwarts, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromaticism/pseuds/Chromaticism
Summary: The expression of love, in all its forms, has always been an important cornerstone of Harry's relationship with Blaise. Told in drabbles.Chapter 1 - Acts of ServiceChapter 2 - Physical Touch
Relationships: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini
Series: A Partnership Forged in Mutual Vitriol [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/943644
Comments: 1
Kudos: 77





	1. Acts of Service

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something on the cute side. This can be interpreted as being as in the same universe as 'the future is a timeless mirror', but there's no fixed connection.

With their respective careers, there were periods where they didn’t see each other for days. Whether it was Blaise away on conference in the summer or Harry’s pursuit of Dark wizards taking him outside of Britain, they had an unspoken agreement to make time for the other when they were both within the country. Even when Blaise was at his most mentally exhausted, digesting novel developments in astronomy or ruminating on particularly dense students. Even when Harry was recuperating after a particularly emotionally taxing assignment, having seen and done things that none should have to. Even when the outside world had demands of them.

They made time.

It was why Harry was already preparing their home for Blaise’s return from Nepal. The lighting was low but atmospheric, smooth jazz filled the air, and some of Blaise’s favourite foods were ready under his best Preservation Charm. Harry ordinarily hated cooking, finding it reminded him far too much of the Dursleys, but there were several people in his life he was willing to make an exception for.

Giving the chilled bottle of red he’d bought under Pansy’s discerning eye a self-satisfied nod, he turned to the food. Veal alla Milanese, the recipe for which he’d gotten from Blaise’s mother, with homemade bread and a spring salad. The praline gianduja cheesecake was incredibly tempting, almost as good as a treacle tart from his taste-testing, but Harry determinedly made his way to the bathroom.

Their spacious bath was already ready, filled with piping hot water and laced with a powdered potion blend that relaxed the muscles and calmed the mind. It left the water with a soft, herbal scent and a shimmering, blue glow. With the volume in which Blaise bought the stuff, Harry was certain that Parvati was raking it in.

With impeccable timing, there was the quiet pop of someone Apparating into their foyer. Dashing into the living room, Harry waited. Blaise stepped in, laden with scrolls, star charts, and sheaves of parchment covered in math. He was his usual sight, effortlessly handsome in his well-fitted robes, but the brilliant grin that appeared on his face at the sight of Harry never failed to make him weak.

“Welcome back, love,” Harry said. 

Blaise dumped his stuff on a nearby armchair, walking towards him arms outstretched.

They met for an embrace and kiss. Though the years had ebbed away at their passion, it was still there, a smouldering ember rather than an all-consuming fire. Every kiss with Blaise upon his return still managed to feel like returning home, as if every time he left during the summer, Harry left also.

“It’s good to be back, amato,” Blaise said. 

They separated, but Blaise’s hand remained at his hip, and his own at the back of Blaise’s neck. It was hard to even consider breaking all physical contact, but eventually their hands fell to their sides. 

“Good trip?”

Blaise smile softened. “Adjusting to the altitude was hard, but it was good. It’s always nice to see Aurora again.”

They made small talk as Harry took his abandoned belongings, dumping it in their study, and returned to the living room, finding it empty. Following the soft scent of Blaise’s aftershave, he found him in the kitchen. He was looking at their dinner intently.

He turned to face Harry, a knowing smile on his face. “I wouldn’t mind a soak before dinner.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Harry led the way to the bathroom.

“You always take care of me, bello,” Blaise murmured to him as he began to step out of his robes. “Thanks.”

Harry waited patiently as inch after inch dark, toned muscle was revealed. Blaise’s blissful smile when he finally sank into the hot water was reward enough.

“It’s what we do.” Harry smiled down at his partner before turning to leave. “If you need me, I’ll be making sure dinner hasn’t walked off.”

“Harry,” Blaise called as he turned to walk away.

Reading the invitation in his dark eyes, Harry didn’t hesitate. After stripping down without any of Blaise’s languid pace and stepping into the water, he settled between Blaise’s long legs in the tub, reclining against him. As Blaise’s lips pressed against his cheek, and his hand settled on his hip, Harry succumbed to the soporific heat and comfort of both the water and Blaise’s hard body. 

Maybe there was something to this potion but looking over his shoulder at Blaise’s intent gaze on him, Harry decided otherwise. There was a more tangible power in loving company.

“So, Harry,” Blaise murmured, patting his thigh gently, “tell me how your day was.”

Retelling his boring day of paperwork still managed to be novel, even when Blaise shared how terribly tedious the conference ended up being. It wasn’t the most thrilling conversation, but the beauty was that it didn’t have to be.


	2. Physical Touch

The clock on the bedside table showed half past three in the morning, and Harry still couldn’t sleep. Nightmares hadn’t plagued him in years, but they’d still left him with long stretches of time where sleep was a pipedream. In comparison to his troubles, Blaise’s broad back gently rose and fell with the soft sounds of his breathing. Not wanting to sink into the quagmire of envy as he’d done in the past, Harry slid out of bed, put on his glasses, and made his way downstairs. 

He was deep into his second mug of coffee when the stairs creaked with the arrival of his boyfriend. Without a word, Blaise took his hand and gently led him to the couch, lit the fireplace, and allowed Harry to settle into his lap.

“Still can’t sleep?” he asked.

Harry rubbed at his eyes, still fighting bone-aching tiredness, and the horrid mix of his fatigue with alertness from the coffee wasn’t doing much to help. 

“After you hid my Dreamless Sleep again, I’ve been struggling.”

A hum was his only response before Blaise’s gentle fingers were smoothing his brows, his thumbs pressing tender circles into his forehead. 

“What are you doing?” 

Blaise continued his ministrations. “You carry so much tension.”

There was no chiding in Blaise’s voice, as there had been weeks ago, and Harry found his agreement with his declaration growing with the increasing slackness of his facial muscles. 

“That’s it,” Blaise said soothingly. “Just relax, baby.”

Harry winced as Blaise’s long-fingered hands dug especially firmly into his jaw, and it was like something had clicked as he felt his jaw suddenly relax completely. 

“Should I tell Hermione you’ve been grinding your teeth?”

Harry blanched, remembering the bollocking she’d given him after she’d discovered he was abusing Dreamless Sleep. Any answer was lost under the feel of warm fingers caressing his face, trailing along his jaw, inspecting the beginnings of bags under his eyes, and brushing against his lips. 

“I’ll always take care of you, Harry,” Blaise murmured into his ear. “Even when you’re pretending that you’re not stressed out.”

He gave the lobe of Harry’s ear a brief nibble before moving away, and Harry laughed, knowing that only Blaise would make taking care of him double as seduction.

“You should give up on the kids and become a masseuse,” Harry slurred, having forgotten entirely about Hermione and sleep as a concept.

Blaise chuckled. “Slughorn’s retiring soon, and I don’t think Draco will take the position. Someone needs to stay and teach the brats, Gryffindors included, the importance of Slytherin cunning and ambition.”

“Okay, Mr Head of Slytherin,” Harry said.

A particularly deft caress of the underside of his jaw made Harry make a distinctly feminine sound. 

“Are you saving that battle cry for when you make Head Auror, love?” 

Blaise’s tone was remarkably even, considering that Harry could see his bright eyes.

“About the same time as you admitting you love teaching, love,” Harry said after they’d stopped laughing.

Harry still couldn’t imagine Blaise as a Head of House. The idea of Blaise acting in a pastoral role was quite strange to Harry, even knowing how affable and diplomatic Blaise could be when he deemed it appropriate.

“Maybe when I’m older and more senile,” Blaise said.

This close, the vibrations of his chest when he spoke only further relaxed Harry, leaving him sinking further and further into the cradle of Blaise’s body and falling deeper and deeper into the snare of his considered touches.

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on potions to sleep, Harry,” Blaise eventually said. He sighed, looking away from Harry to stare into the fire. “We’ve tried sleeping in different rooms, dietary and exercise changes, schedules… I still think you should see a specialist.” 

They were both stubborn people, so this had been a source of contention for the last couple of months. Harry knew he was right, but he’d never liked the Hospital Wing, never mind St Mungo’s. The press would have a field day if they found out, but Harry missed waking up entwined with Blaise, well-rested and comfortable, more than anything. Besides, Blaise had a good rapport with their attorney and a quick hatred of anyone who, in his words, dared to upset Harry. His mother was worse, and between the two of them, any press hijinks tended to be settled very quickly.

Harry pressed a kiss to Blaise’s jaw. “Come with me?”

The gentle smile on Blaise’s lips communicated a marriage of emotions that provoked Harry’s own smile, and the hands resting on his shoulders moved to frame his face.

When they broke their kiss, Harry pressed their foreheads together, entranced by the love and warmth in Blaise’s brown eyes. 

“I’d have it no other way,” Blaise said.

He made it sound like an oath, so Harry rewarded him with another kiss. Settling back into Blaise’s lap made him incredibly aware of the large lump under his arse.

“We’re not going back to bed, are we?”

Blaise shook his head. “You’ve drank at least half a litre of coffee.” 

“Good coffee,” Harry remarked. Blaise only bought the best, after all.

Harry just smiled as he was rolled onto his back, wrapping his legs around Blaise’s waist, and large hands came down on either side of his head. Just as impatient, Harry reached into his pyjama pockets for his wand, and he turned the couch they were on into a large futon. 

“The only way I see you getting a nap before work is if I tire you out,” Blaise purred, already pulling impatiently at Harry’s own clothing. 

There was little room for manoeuvre, this close together, so Harry ended up having to Vanish their clothing. Blaise’s sensual grinding against him made it difficult. With them both naked, Blaise finally descended upon him, ridding him of all rational thought. 

When the hickey-covered state of his neck was discovered at work by Ron, Harry would just say that it had been a very good morning.


End file.
